When you have four children, the question-asking can get a little out of control. In any given circumstance there's the potential for four times the amount of questions. And NO ONE listens when someone else asks a question, so it's very likely I'll get the same question at least twice.
For example, we are currently in the middle of the summer swim team season, which involves three different practices spread across two and a half hours and two different pools. What I'd really love to do is just tell the boys when to be ready, have them actually be ready to go at that time, and drive them to practice in perfect obedience. What actually happens is seven reminders to get ready, two trips back inside for forgotten goggles and someone getting grounded from video games for the rest of the day. And then when we finally do get into the car it's, "What time does my practice start? How many minutes is it today? Why doesn't so-and-so have to practice as long? Do we have to go tomorrow, too? What time will you pick me up? Can I play at the playground afterwards? Are we going the right way??"
Oh for the love of all Doritos....why don't they just do what I say and trust me??!!!
As I drove to swim practice this morning I heard the Lord whisper to me, Ditto.
For it is the truth that I badger Him the same way. I am happy to follow in the direction He's sent me, but not without a full rundown of all the details first.
"For my thoughts are not your thoughts, neither are your ways my ways.
As the heavens are higher than the earth, so are my ways higher than your ways, and my thoughts than your thoughts.
As the rain and snow come down from heaven, and do not return to it without watering the earth,
Making it bud and flourish, so that it yields seed for the sower and bread for the eater, so is my word that goes out from my mouth:
It will not return to me empty, but will accomplish what I desire and achieve the purpose for which I sent it."
I do not drive my children aimlessly to swim practice, but with a plan and a purpose. My God treats me no differently. I long for the same trust of my children that God longs for from me. My boys don't realize yet what a gift that kind of trust is, but surely I do. Surely I can accept it, live into it and through it.
They'll figure it out some day, my kids. They'll be sitting in the restroom somewhere when a tiny hand knocks on the door and asks them for a snack. And then they'll know. And maybe it will occur to them to call and thank me that day, knowing then what it's like to raise kids into trust and faith. It's my hope for them, after all. That they might know the same sort of blessings one day that they give to me, however loud and difficult they might be along the way.
I'll think of them, of course, but I might not be available to take the call. Because, Lord willing, Kevin and I will be on a beach somewhere, enjoying the silence. With a big bag of Doritos.